


Paint Over Everything Mundane

by kelleigh (girlfromcarolina)



Series: The Richardson Vampires [2]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, Bloodplay, M/M, Vampire Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-05
Updated: 2012-03-05
Packaged: 2017-11-01 12:38:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/356878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlfromcarolina/pseuds/kelleigh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Secretive phone calls, corrupt cops, and vampires coming out of the woodwork to make threats sound more like the plot to a thriller movie than the story of a relationship, but Jared’s been dealing with all of that, and more, since he and Jensen got together.  He should have known that <i>normal</i> was too much to ask for.  Sequel to <b>It Begins in the Blood</b>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paint Over Everything Mundane

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second story in my **Richardson Vampires** series, which was inspired by, but not actually based on, the book series, _The Morganville Vampires_. Story is also available at my [livejournal](http://kelleigh.livejournal.com/). Thanks to matalinolukaret for the beta!

Jared is skimming over a “Furniture for Sale” flier on the campus bulletin board when the hairs on the back of his neck go rigid, tiny shivers from a sudden chill running down his arms.

It’s a cold, unfriendly sensation—an icy fingernail tracing his spine—and Jared immediately knows it’s not Jensen behind him. Jensen’s presence is like stepping out into the first cool morning after a long, hot summer; it’s bliss. Whoever’s stalking Jared now has a much more sinister presence, which narrows it down to every other vampire in Richardson besides Jensen.

Before his veins freeze up completely, Jared turns to face a chillingly amused stare.

“Out all alone?” The vampire plucks at his lip with one elongated fang. “And it’s nearly dark, too. Such a newfound sense of bravery, Padalecki.”

“Aldis,” Jared greets the ebony-skinned vampire flatly, keeping his back to the solid bulletin board. No telling who else is out there. “Shouldn’t you be off somewhere, drinking the blood of a newborn?”

“Nah, too sweet for me.” Aldis’s teeth are white as snow but his eyes are threaded through with red. “I prefer something a little more aged, with some fire to it.”

Jared almost rolls his eyes—these vampires can be so damn lame—but he doesn’t dare lose focus on Aldis. And it’s getting darker by the minute.

“Well, there’s nothing here for you, so—”

Aldis looks down at Jared’s wrist. “I don’t see your mark.”

Jared swallows, adjusting his stance. Just in case. “Are you confused about the state of my Protection?”

“No,” Aldis tells him. He doesn’t need to circle Jared to make him feel like prey. That sharp smile’s enough. “I’m just enjoying the chance to see our lion turned into a lamb, cowering under his new Patron.”

“I’m not—” Jared has to bite his tongue.

“Or maybe you prefer it that way,” Aldis mocks.

Jared opens his mouth and feels a cool sensation on his tongue just as a familiar shape separates itself from the shadows to stand beside him.

“That’s pathetic, even for you, Aldis,” Jensen says as vampire squares off against vampire. “Sorry to interrupt your little chat, but I thought I heard my name.”

Instead of stepping in front of Jared, Jensen stops at his side. Jared has always fought his own battles in life and against Richardson’s nocturnal half—up until Lyssa’s deal left him no choice—so he appreciates Jensen reining in his instincts.

“Just admiring your new pet, Ackles. I have to say, he doesn’t behave very well.”

“He’s not the one who needs to learn some obedience.”

So maybe Jensen only reins them in a _little_ bit.

“And we were just leaving,” Jared says. Next to him, Jensen is marble. Pale skin, rigid limbs, a stare like Medusa that could petrify a human. He and Aldis are trading silent threats, and Jared wonders if there are vampire abilities humans can’t begin to understand.

“Be my guest,” Aldis says, breaking the face-off. “I think I’ll stick around here for a bit. Been a while since I came down to campus, and I’m sure there’s _a lot_ to see. New people to meet, and all.”

“Hang on—”

“Fine,” Jensen cuts Jared off. “I’ll just let Christian know where you are. I’m sure he’ll want to join you.”

Aldis actually hisses like a python being taunted. “Go right ahead,” he spits before turning and walking away. When Jared looks over, Jensen might as well be licking his lips to match his satisfied sneer. That expression softens into a smile when he sees Jared checking him out.

“Glad to see you’re making friends,” the vampire says.

“What was that all about?” There’s no sign of Aldis in the quad when Jared looks around. “I’ve never done anything to piss off Aldis, have I?”

Jensen shrugs and grabs Jared’s bag, slipping it over his shoulder. The patched messenger clashes with his pinpoint oxford and slate slacks, but Jared enjoys the way _boyfriend_ looks on Jensen.

“Don’t worry about Aldis. I think he’s off his meds.”

“Huh?”

Jensen laughs. “Stay-at-home mom who pounds fistfuls of Prozac. It’s hard to quit a feed like that cold turkey.”

The joke falls a little flat, and Jared says nothing as they cross campus, night closing in thick around them. At least he’s not alone.

“Sorry, Jay,” Jensen says when they get to the Impala. “I wasn’t thinking back there. I should have let you handle it.”

“With Aldis? Hey, I’m not complaining. Protection or not, I’m glad you showed up.” Inside the car, Jared feels the knots in his gut beginning to unravel, the familiar tang of leather closing around him like a protective aura. “Ever since Lyssa and Alex, I’ve been afraid that I’m attracting the wrong kind of attention.”

“Then I’ll have to make sure you’re getting plenty of the right kind of attention,” Jensen teases. “Just to make up for that.”

Jared’s learned a lot about Jensen over the last five weeks, picking out so many things he’d never bothered to know about the vampire before, back when he’d tried to write off Jensen’s regard as _unwanted_. At the top of that list: Jensen has a sense of humor. Warped, sometimes, and out of date, but it’s there. It clashes with the burned-in memories Jared has of Jensen’s stoic courtship years ago, and Jared had always guarded the notion that vampires lost their humor along with their heartbeat. He’s happy to be wrong, even as he puts up with uncomfortable innuendos and self-deprecating jabs about the undead.

“Don’t worry about Aldis,” Jensen repeats, the brightness in his eyes growing inverse to the thickening twilight. “He’s harmless.”

“Didn’t sound harmless.” Jared steers away from campus, knowing where to go without asking Jensen. Aldis had never bothered him before, but then a lot has changed since Jared’s deal.

“The man’s ego has been inflated ever since he got promoted to ‘head vampire geek’.” Jensen uses air-quotes and Jared laughs despite his anxiety.

“What kind of job is that?”

“Aldis knows his way around computer networks,” Jensen explains, “and now he trolls through them all night, making sure nothing confidential about Richardson is popping up out there.”

“He monitors everything?” Jared asks, discomfort growing like a physical ache.

“Not everything, but technology brings with it a whole new set of problems for vampires. Like, outsiders coming to the university, writing emails home about weird things, or strangers seen roaming at night. Texts, blog posts, anything like that—it all filters through his nets and the incriminating stuff disappears.”

After taking a moment to process this, Jared mutters, “That’s fucked up.”

“I know,” Jensen calmly admits. “But that’s life here.”

“Students come to Richardson never knowing what kind of place they’re jumping into. It’s different for me, I grew up here, but these people don’t know the difference!” Jared’s voice picks up steam, frustration in control of his emotions. “It’s dangerous and it isn’t fair!”

Wise for all his years, Jensen lets Jared have his tirade, remaining silent until they pull into the lot behind Misha’s bar and Jared kills the ignition. Still wound up from facing Aldis, Jared is practically gunning for a fight, but he forces himself to calm down with a few deep, measured breaths.

“Sorry, I’m just…” Jared sighs. “My life is weird.”

“I’m not going to argue with that,” Jensen tells him. “It is pretty weird.”

“Aren’t you worried about Aldis though? That he might hurt someone on campus?”

“He knows better than to feed in the open, or attack someone. There are laws.”

Jared snorts—he can’t help it—and Jensen’s focus becomes sharper than it’s been since he appeared. “There _are_ , Jared, and there are consequences for those who break them. Aldis wouldn’t dare, and besides, Christian’s vigilant. He’d never let Aldis do any damage.”

Jared’s never met Christian face to face, but he knows the other vampire is one of Jensen’s closest friends. Jensen paints Christian as strong, dependable, and trustworthy, but Jared’s heard stories of Christian the Enforcer, the vampire tasked with eliminating problems. At least that’s what Chad tells Jared; he really has no idea what to make of Christian’s see-sawing reputation.

There’s an open table at the back of the bar, and Jensen darts ahead to steal it away from an approaching all-human couple. Jared nods politely as the couple turns and gives the table a wide berth.

“We could’ve sat at the bar.”

“This is better,” Jensen says, and Jared decides not to comment on the fact that Jensen can see the entire room from his seat. “What are you having?”

“Worried about how I’ll taste later?”

Jensen’s lip curls in a way that is entirely too attractive. “No one likes to kiss a boyfriend with onion breath.”

Away from campus and in the familiar bustle of Misha’s Tavern, Jared relaxes. He’s been coming here for years, and ever since the Tavern became “neutral” a few years ago, Jared doesn’t have to worry about being here with Jensen.

Though, it’s not much of a date place.

Jared orders fried chicken and a biscuit—“that’ll clog your arteries,” Jensen mutters—and hands his menu to the pale, perky, gothed-out human waiting on them. Jensen keeps it simple with two fingers of the Tavern’s best scotch.

“Not hungry?”

“I ate before I came to find you.”

“Rabbit?” Jared asks, grinning across the table. “Or maybe a squirrel?”

Jensen’s mouth is flat when he asks, “Would _you_ eat a squirrel?”

Well aware of the fact that vampires need human blood to survive, Jared’s comfortable with the joke, but the subject of Jensen’s diet is tough to wrap his instincts around. And lately he’s gotten more and more curious.

“You could have waited,” he says, spinning his glass on the table, fingers drumming. “Eaten here, or whatever.”

Jensen’s stare calculates, picks apart Jared’s comment. It’s not that Jared is eager to watch his vampire boyfriend throw back a pint or two of blood, but Jensen puts up with Jared stuffing his face all the time—only fair he tolerate it the other way around.

“You want me to drink in front of you?”

Nodding, Jared says, “You don’t need to hide it from me. I mean, you watch me eat all the time, and it’s not gross. Right?”

“It is when you eat barbecue,” Jensen deadpans, and Jared scoffs, knowing he walked straight into that one.

The fried chicken arrives in a cloud of battered aroma; Jensen feigns gagging. With a triumphant grin, Jared’s about to crunch into the first flaky piece when he notices their server hovering awkwardly beside the table. Her dark eyes, drawn into pitch-lined almonds, are staring Jensen down. Her mouth is round and open, wrapped around a soundless moan of wonder.

Jared’s usually robust appetite deflates. Jensen ignores the woman—girl, really, since she’s younger than Jared—with a chilled indifference.

“Um”—Jared checks out her nametag—“Morgan, is there something you need from us?”

As if Jared’s a specter, Morgan talks right through him. “You’re Jensen Ackles, right?” she asks, voice as high as the ceiling. “Of _the_ Ackles?”

Jared lowers his crispy drumstick. “I don’t really think this is appropriate.”

“You are!” Morgan bulldozes ahead. “Oh my god, this is amazing. I mean, I knew I’d meet a few of _you_ working here, but Jensen Ackles…I’m a huge fan!”

Jared hasn’t taken a bite and he wants to vomit. A few months ago a display like Morgan’s would have made him sick for different reasons: vampires were detestable, ruthless, and dangerous—anyone claiming to be a fan he chalked up to being a pathetic fang-banger. Tonight, Jared wants to bite back, tell her that Jensen is spoken for. But old prejudices jam up in his throat, silencing him.

“I know all about your family, I mean, what people tell me, and if you ever needed, you know”—she arches her neck in a pathetically unsubtle gesture—“I am totally willing.”

“Morgan.” Jensen’s voice could turn Jared’s sweet tea to ice. Morgan’s drivel stops immediately, her eyes outstretching her thick eyeliner. “You are making a scene.”

As if her blood freezes in her veins, Morgan goes rigid while Jared watches.

“Jensen,” he whispers uncomfortably, but before he can say anything else, a slender man wearing a black apron steps up to their table.

“Morgan, you’ve got another order up in the kitchen.” Misha has to physically turn his server towards the swinging door in the back, giving her an extra nudge to break the trance. When she’s gone, the tavern’s owner sighs. “Sorry about that, guys. New hire.”

“Where do you find these kids, Misha?” Jensen asks, easily side-stepping the tension from a moment ago. “The ‘Fang Me’ ads on Craigslist?”

“Hey, she seemed fine when I interviewed her.”

“She looked _normal_ to you.” Jensen’s snark is evident in the tilt of his eyebrows.

“Not everyone in the eyeliner crowd is eager to be fanged, you know,” Misha counters, batting his own kohl-lined lashes. “But I’ll talk to her, don’t worry. You guys doing alright?”

“It’s been an interesting night,” Jared says, his appetite returning. After taking a bite of his drumstick, Jared stops to lick his fingers and catches the moment Jensen’s eyes flare with interest.

“Well, just tell me if you need anything. I’ll keep Morgan busy while you’re here, take care of you myself.”

“Appreciate it, Misha.” Jared nods as the man walks away. He’s eager to forget the hassles they’ve run into today and get back to teasing his boyfriend with batter-slick fingers and warm smiles, knowing their respite may be a short one.

Sure enough, as Jared goes for his third piece of chicken, Jensen’s cell rings.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Jared mutters.

Jensen takes one look at the number and narrows his eyes. Says, “I have to take this,” and downs the rest of his scotch in a single swallow before disappearing through the dinner crowd.

Obviously, Jared’s relationship with Jensen isn’t ideal. He’s lost count of the number of phone calls, urgent emails, and late night visits from shadowy figures that have wedged into their time together. Before, when Jared was in high school and Jensen’s gaze was just the weight he carried with him, he never _understood_ it. Now he does: Jensen is important. History is one thing, but Jensen’s so connected—the undead heart of Richardson—and his sudden return to town five weeks ago seems to have changed something. And not a _good_ something, if Jensen’s post-call scowls are anything to go by.

Misha startles Jared when he sets another glass of scotch on the table. “Did Jensen leave?”

“He stepped out. Important call, I guess.” _He gets a lot of those_. 

While Misha’s eyes are trying to pick out Jensen through the tavern’s front windows, Jared considers his strange friend. Misha is well known on both sides in Richardson: one of the first to push for neutral establishments in order to build bridges and alleviate fears. Jared’s cynical about how well that can really work, but Misha could be an untapped source of information.

“Hey, Misha…” Jared’s not sure how to begin. “Is there anything, you know, that I should be worried about?” His gaze floats to the door where he can see Jensen’s shoulders aglow in the lamplight. “Is there something going on?”

Misha’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “Always something going on in Richardson,” he says, lilting like Jared’s supposed to get the joke. When Jared doesn’t let up on his frown, Misha sighs. “Nothing to do with you, I’m sure. Are you really worried?”

“Just lost, I guess.”

“Want to borrow my copy of _Dating the Dead_? I have it in hardcover.”

“Would it give me tips on keeping up with my vampire’s crowded social calendar?”

“Sure, along with some great recipes to please you and your fanged partner,” Misha teases, and they both laugh.

Outside, Jensen’s pacing in a circle, meeting Jared’s stare once or twice. His lips quirk in a quarter-grin when he does. Jared’s stomach settles a bit, and the rest of his dinner begins to look appealing again.

“Misha, have you ever…” Jared gestures with two hooked fingers.

“Fought a bear? Danced with a tarantula?”

“Been with a vampire.”

Misha’s demeanor flatlines, and Jared backtracks. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. I know it’s personal. I just…I have no idea what’s going on most of the time.”

Misha sighs, expression less stony. “You’re sort of in uncharted territory right now,” he says. “No one really dates vampires. It’s all _fang n’ bang_ around here,” he finishes crudely.

“No one?” Jared asks, thinking of Morgan and her behavior, the same he’s seen in other vampire-obsessed humans.

“Nothing as”—Misha pauses to choose the right word—“mutual as your thing with Jensen. The idea of romancing a vampire appeals to certain people, obviously, but that never really goes both ways.”

Before Misha can say more, Jensen returns to the table, slipping his cell phone into his pocket. Misha nods to Jensen and walks away towards the kitchen where another server is struggling to balance three plates.

“Everything okay?”

“Politics,” Jensen says, no tone to give Jared a clue. “It would be so much easier if no one knew I’d come back, but—”

“But you didn’t exactly return quietly,” Jared finishes for him. Picking a fight over Jared with another powerful vampire and her septic tank of a brother was hardly inconspicuous. Not that Jared isn’t grateful.

Jensen smirks and picks up his drink. “Guess not,” he says, then throws back the scotch. “You still eating?”

The last pieces of chicken are cold, the sauce sticky. “We can go if you want.”

“Grab a box, you’ll be hungry later.”

“Oh yeah?” Jared asks warmly, liking the hint. “Gonna wear me out?” He wishes vampires could blush; flushed cheeks would make Jensen even more irresistible. 

It’s almost as good as a blush when Jensen pulls two twenties from his wallet and slides them underneath the salt and pepper caddy, strained voice telling Jared, “Right. Now we’re really leaving.” Jared would argue the gesture except he doesn’t get paid for his on-campus job until Friday and he’s pretty sure Jensen’s drinks cost more than his dinner.

One Styrofoam box and a hurried goodbye to Misha later, Jared and Jensen step back out into the night. Jensen’s grip on Jared’s hand is as cool as the air around them, but Jared’s fingers feel a phantom-warmth—the promise of more to come tonight. 

This is the easy part, Jared thinks: the undeniable—and unrelenting—physical want between them. In the place where they don’t have to talk, where the feelings simply are.

The Impala rolls through the blue dark, heading for home. With Jensen’s eyes already sharp and his fingers stroking between Jared’s knuckles, Jared knows they can’t get there fast enough.

~~~

“We could stay at my place, you know.”

Jensen’s remark sounds casual—and he’s got the posture to go with it—but Jared’s heard this before.

“What’s wrong with my place?” he asks, pulling dry towels off the banister and folding them. Katie must not have called their landlord about the dryer yet.

“It’s so apartment-ey.” At least Jensen keeps that from sounding too awful.

“It’s actually a _townhouse_ , you know.”

Jensen looks over. “There’s a difference?”

“Not really, I guess.” Jared shrugs. He doesn’t need to defend his place, but he can’t help it. “I like it, and I can afford it. Campus isn’t far and it’s got plenty of room—“

“That you have to share,” Jensen remarks. “What about living on your own?”

“Jensen…” After the evening he’s had, Jared isn’t in the mood to be logical about touchy subjects. Hell, he barely wants to be conversational. “I can’t leave Katie like that. She can’t afford this place without me. And ever since her parents disappeared, she’s been on her own. I’m not leaving her.”

“Jared—”

“I know. I know you didn’t have anything to do with the Cassidys going missing,” Jared says, pushing the familiar rage back down into his gut. “It’s just not fair.”

A moment ticks by, nothing said. Jared takes stock of his rented townhouse: the carpets need cleaning, mismatched hand-me-downs are mixed with minimalist IKEA furniture, and there are school books dropped wherever Jared got fed up with studying. The shortcomings are obvious.

“It’s not like I can just stay with you at Ackles Manor,” Jared says, hesitant and awkward.

Jensen’s hands are in his pockets, fidgeting. “It’s not actually called that.”

“Sorry. Look, can we just forget all of this right now? I’m really not in the mood to get into anything serious.” Jared sighs, dropping to sit on the staircase. “I just want—“

As if he knows what Jared’s thinking—as if he puts the thought there himself—Jensen kneels over Jared’s legs and presses him back against the stairs. The vampire’s kiss is the first amazing thing Jared’s felt all day, cool tongue like a balm on his nerves. He loves this—fucking _loves_ the way Jensen kisses him, as if the three years he’d spent away from Richardson are something to make up for. Jared never thinks of them as penance; without those years he might never have reached this point. And with Jensen’s lips wide open against his, cool skin under Jared’s fingertips, he’s really fucking glad they’re here.

“Katie?” Jensen asks while his teeth are flirting with Jared’s carotid, pressure much too shy to break the skin.

“Good—ah, so good,” Jared mutters before he pieces together what the vampire’s asking. “Out. Working on a project at Taj’s, gonna be gone all night.”

“Perfect.” It sounds like a threat, sweet, dripping from Jensen’s barely-extended fangs. “I wouldn’t want her coming back and finding you at the mercy of a vampire, spread out like prey.”

Jared’s caught in a vice between the stair digging into his back and the equally unforgiving chest holding him down.

“Here?”

Jensen’s knees squeeze around Jared’s thigh, heavy line of his cock rutting against Jared’s hip. “Bedroom,” he growls, forcing himself away with visible effort. “And hurry.”

They tumble into Jared’s room at the top of the stairs; Jensen’s heightened senses lead them around piles of clothes and books, a shoe here or there waiting to trip them up. Back of his knees hitting the mattress, Jared starts pawing at Jensen’s clothing, impatience overcoming consideration for the havoc his fingers are wreaking on the fabric.

“Why do you always ruin my nice shirts?”

“Why do you _wear_ nice shirts?” Jared counters, shoving the shirt over Jensen’s shoulder and covering the exposed skin with his open palms. The chill passes into him, involuntary shiver taking it all the way to his toes. But Jensen’s eyes are filled with fire, not ice, and his is mouth open to catch the scent of arousal in the air. “You know what? I think you kinda like it,” he tells Jensen as the tattered shirt is kicked aside.

“Yeah? What do I like?”

Jared never really intends to put the feeling into words—and maybe Jensen’s sultry response is rhetorical—but the burst of arousal he gets just thinking about it, forces his lips to move.

“You want me to cross that line,” Jared says, placing one hand on either side of Jensen’s neck. “You like knowing I want you that much—that I can handle this.”

“You can handle me, huh?” Jensen is barely making sense because Jared’s too busy obsessing over the shape the vampire’s lips. “ _All_ of me, Jared? Do you want everything?”

_Everything that terrifies you_ , Jared hears. His voice is useless to answer, so he kisses Jensen instead, tongue drawing a yes on the roof of Jensen’s mouth.

In the space of a blink, Jared is spun away from the edge of the bed and thrown against the wall. Only gut instinct has him flinging up his hands a split-second before his nose hits the drywall. He struggles to breathe; in the wake of Jensen’s unnatural speed, the air has to catch up with Jared’s lungs. Jensen rarely unleashes himself like this—Jared imagines he’s trying to appear as human as possible—but when he has Jared’s permission, Jensen dominates like a category four hurricane.

Jared’s clothes are ripped from his body: seams, fabric, and buttons giving way as if they’re made of tissue paper. He feels no pain except the throb of blood into his dick, exposed and heavy, caught in a dry rub between the wall and his skin. A moan that’s half scream falls out of Jared’s mouth when Jensen reaches around and starts stroking his cock with a cool, invigorating grip.

“This feels awfully serious,” Jensen mocks Jared’s earlier complaint. “Are you sure you want me to _get into it_?”

“Oh god, shut up. Yes!”

Jensen’s mouth ravages the back of Jared’s neck, teeth bared against the meat of his shoulder; Jared wishes he could bite into those lips but all he tastes is drywall when he opens his mouth. The pressure at his back is unrelenting, Jensen’s palm squeezing and twisting.

“This is what you wanted.” Jensen’s voice is a soft blast of icy air across Jared’s cheek.

Jared groans, hips picking up speed. “You don’t need to hold back,” he mutters, knowing Jensen can go harder. “I’m not gonna break.”

The throaty laugh behind him serves as a warning. “You might.”

All of that wonderful pressure evaporates, and Jared wants to collapse in desperation. It only lasts for a few seconds before Jensen wraps around him, naked skin sliding along Jared’s sweat-streaked back. Jared feels the vampire’s cock, full and long, fitting into the groove of his ass, wet tip marking his skin. Jared had never allowed any of his exes to pin him this way—no one had earned the right to overpower him—but with Jensen, Jared has to fight the urge to drop his head and spread himself obscenely.

“Do you want—” Jared can’t say it, but Jensen reads the tension in his spine, loosening his grip to where it’s possessive, not restrictive. He curls into Jared’s body, thrusting and stroking at the same time.

“This is what I want,” he whispers. “All I’ve ever wanted. Just you.”

Jared could lose it right then—soak Jensen’s cold fingers with his come—but he clings to the last shreds of his self-control, edging away from his orgasm. He thrusts his hips backwards, hitting the cradle of Jensen’s thighs and nearly crying out as Jensen’s cock grinds forward and drags over his hole. No matter Jensen’s intentions, Jared can’t help tensing, waiting for the intrusion he knows he’s not ready for. He goes rigid for a moment, but once again, Jensen translates his body’s language, jacking Jared’s cock in an encouraging rhythm and pushing his own through the sweaty crease between Jared’s thighs.

Each time Jensen squeezes his fingers around the crown, or drags his thumbnail along the swollen vein that runs down to the base, Jared’s dick pulses and his entire body reacts to the sensation. His thighs contract, pulling Jensen deeper into the long lines of his body. Rhythm devolves into frenzy, both of them grasping and rutting until Jared can’t hold back any longer. His come spatters the wall in bursts and drips between Jensen’s fingers, cooling quickly. Jared hisses and grits his teeth, cock tingling as Jensen uses Jared’s come to stroke him down.

Elongated fangs nip at his shoulder, reminding Jared that Jensen’s still in pleasured agony behind him. Though Jared’s knees are quaking, he braces himself against the wall and lets Jensen’s pounding overwhelm him. The back of his thighs are going to be red and bruised from the force of Jensen’s thrusts, balls hitting skin, but he’ll welcome the ache later on. Only when Jensen’s come mixes with his, making a filthy mess of Jared’s thighs, does he slump forward, letting Jensen and the wall bear his weight.

“Are you gonna stay?” Jared asks later that night, after their mess is taken care of and Jared’s textbooks are open in a semi-circle on the bed in front of him. Jensen’s lounging against the headboard, playing Solitaire on his phone in between sending dirty texts to Jared about the feel of his come on his fingers. “At least until sun-up, I mean.”

“I was planning on it,” the vampire says, easing deeper into the pile of pillows as if he’s the prince of Jared’s bedroom. “It’ll be like my afternoon nap. And seriously”—he rolls a little closer to Jared—“it’s not like I can just go back and _stay_ at Ackles Manor.”

Jared drops his notebook and laughs. “I thought you didn’t call it that.”

Jensen shrugs. “It fits.”

“It can’t beat this little apartment, huh?”

“Oh no,” Jensen says, reaching out to pull Jared down to meet his cool, perfect lips, “this is a _townhouse_.”

~~~

Something’s coming.

Jared can feel the tension coiling in his gut, but he’s unable to do anything about it—he’s hardly clairvoyant. He does know that he and Jensen have enjoyed six days of uninterrupted relationship peace: no vampires cornering Jared on campus, no mysterious phone calls stealing Jensen away. Nothing to ruin what it took half a decade—not to mention three years of separation—to build.

Obviously, it can’t last. Jared’s ready for the other shoe to drop, even if it means getting kicked in the face. Anything to get rid of the strain that’s beginning to weigh on his shoulders.

He’s been pacing in his tiny kitchen for ten minutes, waiting for Jensen to show up. Once Katie heard that Jensen was coming over, she’d decided to leave for the night again, and Jared’s a little grateful. He loves his roommate, but he likes having the vampire over, too, and tonight he needs one more than the other.

“I hope you’re thinking about me.”

“Christ”—Jared slips and cracks his hip against the counter, adrenaline spiking as he sees Jensen standing in the kitchen door—“can’t you knock?”

“I have to knock now?” Jensen asks. “The door was open, which is surprising. I know who’s out and about tonight and, yeah, not a great idea.”

“Sorry.”

“It wouldn’t be a problem if—”

“I know,” Jared cuts him off. “I have the seal, I just…”

“Just what? Are you waiting until some vamp makes a play to hurt you? To hurt me _through_ you?”

“Please, can we not do this?”

Jensen shakes his head, eyes fierce. “No, I can’t let this go, Jared. Protection is important, and you know that. I gave you my seal not because I thought you needed it, as if you would be helpless without my protection, but because I needed it!”

That gets Jared’s attention. He steps closer to Jensen, unwilling to miss a single flicker of expression across the vampire’s face. 

“What do you mean?”

“Every vampire in this town knows how I feel about you, and more than one of them would do anything to take me down.” As Jensen gets more and more worked up, his features sharpen, mouth flattening into a deadly line with his fangs fully visible. “You walking around without a mark— _living_ in an apartment without a seal—is as good as an invitation for someone to try something.”

“I’m in danger?”

“Not from anyone with half a brain, you’re not,” Jensen growls, as if he’s silently threatening every vampire in his mind. “But some of them are very influential. Imagine if Lyssa, or Alex, or even Aldis, convinced someone else to hurt you. Hell, Lyssa’s done it before when she hired thugs to attack your parents’ store, and it brought you right to her doorstep where she wanted you!”

Jared has no idea what to say. He’s bucked Protection for so long—a teenage rebellion that never truly died out—even after he and Jensen reconciled and his Protection was offered as a truce, not an obligation.

“I never meant to…”

“I know you didn’t, Jared, and I understand what the mark means to you. I just…” Jensen sighs. “No one is going to hurt you, or your family, or Katie, so long as I’m around. I’ll do everything in my power. It’s just that you’re making it so much harder for me to control the situation, shunning the Protection that’s been yours—no questions asked—since you turned eighteen.”

Towards the end of his speech, Jensen’s voice begins to waver, and Jared knows he has to let go of this fight. Their relationship is already weighted in Jared’s favor; Jensen has given up so much, and changed so much, that it’s been unfair.

“Okay,” he says, waiting for Jensen to meet his eyes. “I’ll do it. You’re right; the seal needs to go up.”

He doesn’t see Jensen move before he’s got the vampire in his arms, hugging the breath out of him. It’s wonderful, as far as vampire hugs go, and goes a long way towards relieving the anxiety Jared’s been cursed with for days.

Jensen pulls away to look at Jared. “Let’s get right on that. We definitely don’t want any surprises tonight. And tomorrow you can take care of your mom and dad’s place—”

“They’re already using your seal,” Jared corrects him quietly.

Jensen’s voice holds no anger, only confusion, when he asks, “You let your parents use my seal, but you wouldn’t?”

“After what Lyssa did, I thought they needed it more than me.” Jared feels a raw emotion creeping into his voice. “They’re important to me, you know?”

“And you’re important to _me_ ,” Jensen assures him, though that’s the one thing Jared hasn’t questioned in the six weeks they’ve been seeing one another.

The mood changes considerably after Jared hangs Jensen’s family seal outside his door and pulls out the thin bracelet Jensen had given him weeks ago. And something within Jared shifts when he sees the intricate script—a language no human can read—that now adorns his rented townhouse and encircles his wrist, but he pushes the strange vibrations to the back of his mind, not ready to deal with them.

~~~

Jared grips the steering wheel with white-knuckled intensity, closing his eyes and hoping that the flashes of red and blue will have disappeared when he opens them.

He’s not that lucky.

The cruiser’s lights are blinding in the Impala’s rearview. It’s long past sunset, but it’s so bright inside Jared’s car, it could be noon. Jared hears one car door slam, then another, and tries to make out the figures moving towards him without scarring his retinas. He can barely see when there’s a tap on the glass next to him.

Rolling down the window, Jared leans his left arm on the door panel, inscribed bracelet in plain sight. He tries to sound indifferent. “Is there a problem, officer?” 

“Jared Padalecki?”

“Yes?”

“I’m Detective Alhambra. You might remember me.”

Jared’s stomach sinks like a stone. The spots dancing across his eyes finally fade and he recognizes the square, stocky shape standing beside the Impala. A quick check to the right and Jared sees another officer, this one in uniform, peering through the passenger window.

_This is bad. This is so fucking bad._

Alhambra is scowling when Jared looks back, his thick brows casting a shadow over his eyes. “Could you step out of the car please?”

Trampling his nerves, Jared does his best not to flinch. There’s no way in hell he’s getting out of the Impala. “Sorry, but what’s this about?” His cell phone is sitting on the passenger seat, but Jensen already knows Jared is on his way home. They’d talked no more than ten minutes ago when Jared was leaving work.

“Just a routine stop,” Alhambra says, not even bothering to wrap the lie in a casual tone. “But I do have a few questions for you.”

On the other side of the Impala, the silent officer hasn’t moved; the hand not holding his flashlight sits on his hip, close to his gun. Not that he’d need it if things went south. There are other, more deadly weapons out in the darkness.

It’s no secret that Richardson’s police force is disproportionately divided. There are cops who work for the public good, but even more who work for the vampires. The former gets the glory of dealing with parking tickets and waiting for drunks in the tank to sober up, while the latter protects the vampires’ interests. Whether it’s quashing any damaging human behavior or obscuring Richardson’s many ‘disappearances,’ police officers like Alhambra are the buffer between humans and vampires, but their loyalties are obvious.

And Alhambra’s one of the worst. Jared figured that out when his parents were being harassed on Lyssa’s orders. The detective had listened—if you could even call it that with all the eye-rolling—as Jared raged, before brushing him off with a brusque warning not to cause any trouble.

“According to a report filed today, you’re behind on your donations.”

“ _That’s_ what this is about?” Jared sputters. “Because I haven’t been giving blood?”

The detective coughs, like he’s allergic to Jared’s disrespect. “You haven’t _donated_ anything in nearly two months. This is a very serious matter, Mr. Padalecki. When one citizen shuns the laws that keep this city running…”

Jared tunes him out in favor of scouting the darkness. He recognizes the phantom prickle of a hidden gaze—someone’s got eyes on this very non-routine police stop, and Jared’s flipping through the possibilities. He hasn’t made it alphabetically past Aldis, Alex, before the chill descends like an icicle shoved through his heart.

“—And you responsibility to contribute in order to maintain—“

Alhambra’s rambles on, oblivious to Jared’s sudden terror. But even the detective can’t miss the solidly built man stalking up to the Impala, black shirt marking him as a part of the night. The silent officer steps aside for him, flashlight beam shaky as it darts over the car’s hood. Jared remains frozen as the easily recognizable vampire opens the passenger door and gets in, slamming the door with the finality of a bell toll.

“Mr. Kane”—it is Alhambra’s turn to sputter—“this is…unexpected.”

Christian Kane doesn’t bother to look at the detective. “I think we’re done here,” he says, gruff voice clawing down Jared’s spine. Long brown hair falls around Christian’s pale face, bracelets wrapping the length of his thick forearms. He looks strange to Jared, formidable like a long-studied nemesis, and Jared can’t help thinking of the stories that tell of Christian Kane, the enforcer.

If Jared’s been labeled as a _problem_ , Christian could be here for him. Turns out, he’s a little bit right.

“I was just trying to resolve the issue of Mr. Padalecki’s donations,” Alhambra’s saying, ducking down in a stunted bow to look through the car window.

The marble face doesn’t crack. “There is no issue.”

“But—”

“As I said, we’re done here,” Christian repeats, and his tone brokers no argument.

Petrified, Jared watches in the rearview as Alhambra and the officer walk back to their car. The mounted lights go dark a moment later, shocking Jared’s eyes until his pupils dilate enough to focus on his next problem: the infamous Christian Kane sitting in his goddamn passenger seat.

The police sedan pulls away, leaving the Impala alone on the street. _No witnesses_.

“You might wanna start driving, kid.”

Jared flinches. “What?”

“Why do I always get the deaf ones?” Christian mutters. “I said drive, Jared.”

He starts the car, lets the familiar vibration roll through him. It makes him feel a little better, more balanced. Catching Christian watching him closely, Jared pulls out onto the deserted road.

“Where do you want me to go?” Jared asks, hoping the noise of the engine covers the tremor in his voice.

The vampire snorts. “I gotta tell you how to get home, too?”

“We’re going to my house?”

“You’re going home. I’m just along for the ride, kid.”

Jared is thoroughly confused; maybe the adrenaline spikes of the last fifteen minutes have affected his ability to process the situation. And maybe it’s that same lack of sense that leads him to do what he does next.

“What’s going to happen to me?”

Kane doesn’t say anything, and when Jared glances over, the vampire’s got one eyebrow cocked. It reminds him of Jensen’s expression whenever Jared has said something particularly dense.

“I mean”—he can’t help stammering, faced with someone so ruthless-by-reputation, but he won’t shy away from his fate—“am I going to disappear? Is that how this works? Or are you just going to kill me?”

“Damn,” Christian laughs. “You’re worse than I thought.”

Attention split between watching the road and preparing himself for whatever Christian’s planning to do, Jared is more than a little lost.

“This isn’t _funny_ ,” Jared mutters, but Christian’s still laughing, a low and throaty vibrato that’s the opposite of menacing.

“Damn right it is,” the vampire tells him. His spine-tingling voice mellows into something warmer, with a touch of honeyed drawl. “You’re thinkin’ I’m here to kill you, and that’s definitely worth a laugh. Jensen told me you’d have some strange notions, but it’s like you have no idea what that bracelet you’re wearin’ is even for.”

“Wait”—Jared slams on the brakes—“you’ve heard about that?”

“Kid, I wish I could stop hearin’ about you, but Jensen’s had his mind set on you for years now, so I don’t think I’m gonna be that lucky.”

“So you and Jensen are friends?” Jared asks, mentally crossing his fingers. “And you’re not here to—”

Christian nods and says, “If I meant you harm, I would’ve let Detective Dipshit take you in for missing donations. What a crock of shit that is.”

“Yeah, I don’t get it. Jensen said I didn’t have to give blood anymore. I thought that was written in my file, or something.”

“It is, but you’ve got a knack for pissing off the wrong people.”

Jared groans, thinking about the latest vampire who has it in for him. “Aldis.”

Christian surprises him by laughing again. “That fuckin’ nerd,” he says, but with a hint of affection. “No way he’s got that kind of pull with the cops. Nah, I’m talkin’ about Lyssa and that mongrel she calls her brother. They’ve got it bad for you, kid.”

“But I’m Protected.”

“Up until yesterday, you refused to wear the mark.” Christian indicates Jared’s bracelet. In just one day, Jared’s gotten used to wearing it, the weight and meaning of the unreadable inscription giving him comfort. “Might be Lyssa doesn’t know about that yet, and she’s taking a chance to catch you off guard. No telling what could’ve happened once you were in custody.”

Jared wants to hit his forehead on the steering wheel; so much for peace.

No other threat emerges to interrupt the drive. Jared looks down at his cell phone every minute or so, anxious to talk to Jensen and tell him what happened. Although with Christian arriving on the scene in the nick of time, Jensen might already know. Speaking of which…

“Did Jensen send you to watch me?” he asks, curious now that he’s thinking clearly.

“I’m not his errand boy.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it that way, but what were you doing there?”

“I heard a rumor or two about someone digging into your business. Followed Alhambra tonight after he left the station, figuring something was up.”

“I’m glad you did,” Jared says, and Christian acknowledges the silent _thank you_ with a nod. “But why help me? If Jensen didn’t ask you to do it…”

Jared drives in silence for a full minute before Christian responds. “Jensen and I have been through more than you’ll ever know. He’s my brother, and I understand what he’s had to deal with ever since he came back. Jensen’s not the only one with a human affliction,” Christian says, and Jared knows he’s not imagining the bitter after-tone the words carry.

“You? You and—a human? Who?”

The vampire’s expression reveals nothing, stony gaze peering out into the darkness. “Just because I’m here doesn’t mean we’re _close_ , kid. Let it go.”

Considering Christian had dropped the first hint, Jared doesn’t think it’s fair that he’s unable to pry. But taking into account Christian’s strength, speed, and rumored ruthlessness, Jared determines he’d better keep his mouth shut. At least until he can ask Jensen, that is.

When Jared pulls up in front of his townhouse, Christian’s the first one out of the Impala. “Can you manage it from here?”

“You think something’s gonna happen to me in the thirty feet between here and my door?” Christian actually thinks about it, and then waits for Jared to get out of the car, flanking him all the way up to the front step. “Um, I guess I’ll see you around.”

“Let’s hope not,” Christian says, letting the darkness wrap around him as he steps further away. His pale face is the last part of him Jared sees as he disappears, like the moon pulled into the earth’s shadow.

Quickly stepping inside, Jared faces a different kind of attack.

Katie’s standing at the front window, breath fogging the glass. She drops the curtain and spins around. “What the fuck, Jared? You let _another_ fang get that close to you?”

“I’m fine, Katie. Seriously. Nothing happened,” Jared insists. “Christian just wanted to make sure I got home—”

Katie’s eyes are as round as the full moon when she gasps. “ _Kane_? That’s who you were with? Jared, you know what he’s done!”

Jared’s beginning to wonder just how much of Christian’s reputation is propaganda, but he knows better than to say that in front of Katie. When he considers it, telling Katie anything about what happened tonight seems like a horrible idea. He lets her vent instead, throwing his bags at the bottom of the stairs.

“Maybe I can understand Jensen,” she’s saying, pacing between the window and the couch. “I mean, I remember the way he’d always look at you when we were in high school. But _Kane_? What other vampires have you been hanging out with?” There’s always an edge to Katie’s voice when she talks about the vampires in Richardson—an unconscious rage that’s never going to disappear. Jared understands it; her parents were victims of the vampire culture, and now they’re gone. Dead, Jared presumes.

“Remember the way you used to feel about vampires?” she asks bitingly, blond hair swinging over her shoulders. “You hated everything about them! And you swore to me you’d never stop fighting against their fucking laws.”

Jared can’t stay silent. “I haven’t stopped fighting.”

“Oh yeah? I’m sure that’s exactly what you’re doing with Jensen all the time. _Fighting_.”

“He’s different,” Jared insists.

“Jensen’s different. Now I guess you’ll tell me that Kane is ‘different,’ too. Who’s next, Jared? Are you gonna tell me that Lyssa’s not that bad?” 

“Katie—”

“I can’t, Jared”—she breaks off with half a sob—“it’s like you don’t even remember what they’ve done to me. What they’ve done to _us_.” With that, Katie’s gone, running up the stairs and slamming her bedroom door so hard, the bannister shakes.

He feels unwelcome in his own home, all worked up with no one to lash out at. And he doesn’t want to be around when Katie reemerges. Shouldering his bags once again, Jared realizes that there’s only one place he wants to be. Well, one person he wants to be _with_ —he can definitely do without the location.

Suddenly Jared wishes Christian hadn’t been so quick to disappear. The last thing he wants to do is drive alone tonight.

~~~

The gate is open, and Jensen is waiting for him at the end of the landscaped drive. Ackles Manor—it will always be called that in Jared’s mind—rises imposingly behind the vampire, hand-laid brick and stone forming three stories of wide windows and terraces. It’s a beautiful mansion, but Jared’s never been inside, only able to imagine how lavish it must be.

He’ll find out tonight.

Jared parks and meets Jensen on the lawn, his shoulders slouched with extra burden. 

“How’d you—”

“Christian saw you drive off again,” Jensen says. “When he realized where you were going, he called.”

“So you know what happened?”

“Only pieces. Christian figured he’d let you fill in the rest.”

Jared’s nervous as Jensen leads him around to the back of the manor and through a patio entrance, relieved not to be subjected to a tour. They end up in a massive kitchen, stainless steel gleaming from every angle, and warm terracotta tones dominating the room. Surprisingly, Jared loves it. If the entire manor reflects the same style, he’ll have to rethink his decision not to spend time here, though there’s the small matter of the rest of the Ackles clan.

“Is it okay for me to be here?” he asks. “What about your family?”

“Fortunately Albert and Donatella keep a full social calendar,” Jensen tells him, referring to the head of the Ackles family and his wife. “And my brother’s no longer living here, so we have the place to ourselves tonight.” Jensen leads him into a den just off the kitchen, where the décor is a mix of rich forest greens and dark leather. _Man cave_ , Jared thinks, laughing when he mentally changes it to _bat cave_.

“Something amusing?”

Jared smirks. He’ll save that one for later.

The couch is beyond comfortable, leather supple and smooth as if it’s been well used and well cared for. Jared could sink into its shape and stay there for hours, until Lyssa, Christian, and blood donations are the furthest things from his mind. But Jensen sits next to him, regard unwavering, and finally Jared turns to him.

“Gonna give me a penny for my thoughts?”

“I can afford to pay more,” Jensen says.

“I’m not sure they’re worth much more than that.”

“Bill me.” The vampire’s voice is warm. “Now tell me what’s going on.”

The story of Jared’s night comes out in run-on sentences and frustrated cursing, punctuated by exasperated sighs. Jensen listens quietly but his eyes never lose their focus, as if he’s memorizing every detail for later. When Jared tells him about Katie, there’s no reaction save for the vampire’s hand squeezing his thigh reassuringly.

“Should I go back to donating blood?” Jared eventually asks. They’re both slouched on the couch, fingers twined together in Jensen’s lap. “I mean, I don’t want to, but maybe it’ll make things easier—”

“No.” Jensen doesn’t let him speculate further. “You’re exempt from the law. I made sure of that.”

“Okay…” Jared thinks over his next question carefully. He’s never asked, naively thinking that it would be easier not knowing. “Did you ever drink mine?”

“Yours?”

“My blood. What I used to give before you and I…”

The expression on Jensen’s face changes from calm concern to faraway thought. The vampire is silent for so long that Jared tries to work out what he’s going to say, attempts to prepare himself if the answer is difficult.

“It doesn’t really work that way. Donations are”—Jensen tries to work out the phrasing—“anonymous. They’re supposed to be, anyway. Certain vampires are pickier than others, but that’s rare. The council discourages that kind of selectiveness.”

“And you? Before you disappeared?”

“Even if I could have, I didn’t want to.” Jensen runs his free hand through his hair, fingers wrecking the careful style. His shoulders are like a slab of granite, hard and immovable.

“Why not?”

The laugh he gets in response is harsh. “It was hard enough just being around you before I left. Drinking your blood—and _only_ your blood—would have driven me insane. I might have done something to hurt you, and then I never would have been able to forgive myself.” Here, Jared squeezes Jensen’s hand, urging him to continue. “And as ridiculous as it might sound to you, I didn’t want to be spoiled.” Jensen sighs and adds, “Of course I wanted your blood, but I wanted you to give it to me, freely. I didn’t want it from some blood bag, especially knowing how much you loathed the entire process.”

“You can have it now, whenever you want,” Jared offers in an unsteady voice.

“I know,” says Jensen, “but I’m not quite used to the fact yet.”

Jared reminds him, “You don’t have to hide it from me—the drinking.”

“So you’ve said.”

“And if you want to feed from me—”

“Jared—”

“—it’s alright, I think I can handle it now.”

“Stop it,” Jensen growls, pulling away. The soothing coolness of his presence turns to cold in his absence. “This is not about you being able to ‘handle it.’ I get the blood I need, and that should be enough.”

“From other people?”

“Yes—no, not really.” Jensen shakes his head. “It’s anonymous, remember? I don’t know who I’m drinking from; it’s just a bag with a number. They’re not _with_ me. Not like you are.”

“You never drink from me though.”

“I do—”

“A few drops here and there. You can’t tell me that’s enough.”

“But that’s all I need from you, Jay.” Jensen is suddenly very close. Between one breath and the next, he’s crowding Jared against the arm of the couch, white fangs digging into the softness of his lower lip. “You’re not something for me to feed on like a mindless animal.” Bringing Jared’s braceleted wrist up between their mouths, Jensen leans forward to run his fangs over skin. The tip of one catches and drags, and blood spills over the cut.

Jared hisses at the fleeting touch of pain, but he’s soon riveted by the way his blood blooms under Jensen’s mouth.

“I want this,” Jensen whispers. “Blood, sex, _you_. In that order, or”—his grin makes Jared’s stomach tumble backwards—“sometimes with a little variation.”

With theatrical slowness, Jensen licks Jared’s blood away from the open cut, holding it on his tongue before swallowing. The remainder of Jared’s blood rushes into his cock so quickly, his head spins. Then Jensen raises his deadly, red-laced gaze and bares his teeth.

“Now, get naked.”

Limited by human hands, Jared can’t strip himself as fast as Jensen could, but he tries, writhing under the vampire until his shirts are on the floor, pants hooked around his feet as he struggles to get out of his shoes. Jensen takes pity on him and gets rid of everything in a blur, and Jared’s left naked on the leather with Jensen straddling his thighs.

“What about your—” Jared starts to say, but Jensen’s shirt is gone before he can finish his request. Probably so Jared won’t tear it to shreds.

“Better?”

He answers with his hands, one palm spread out over Jensen’s silent heart and the other, blood-streaked, raised in offering. And Jensen accepts it, nothing human left in his eyes as his lips pick up the trail Jared’s blood has left on his wrist. Jensen’s irises are gone, devoured by inky black, and the arteries run across one another creating pictures Jared intends to memorize.

“I told you, your blood’s not the only thing I want,” Jensen reminds him, mouth smearing red and sticky warmth over Jared’s fingers. 

Leaning down, he drops his hand to Jared’s cock, wrapping it in an unforgiving grip. The contrast between Jensen’s cold palm and Jared’s dick, swollen with blood and hot, is a shock—Jared’s surprised he can’t see steam curling up from the contact. 

“I want this, too,” Jensen says, pumping with a confident rhythm. “I don’t think you know how much I want your cock, Jay—how often I think about it.”

Jared has to blink the sweat out of his eyes. He has no idea how being with someone so _cold_ makes him hotter than he’s even been in his life. “Yeah?”

“It’s so fucking perfect. I can feel your pulse, your life, in my hand, and I want _more_.”

Amongst all the sensations—the supple leather catching the sweat off his spine, Jensen’s breath on his wrist, hints of copper in the air—Jared can pick out the smooth drag of Jensen’s ring up and down his shaft. It’s warm where Jensen’s skin is not, the precious metal absorbing Jared’s body heat. His arousal spikes, discovering a kink he can’t imagine being able to put into words.

Jensen doesn’t stop there, leaning down even further. “And I want you in my mouth so I can feel your pulse in my throat.” Jared’s entire body seizes, dangerously close to coming, and Jensen’s voice drops so low that the filth he’s spilling is barely a whisper. “I want to drink from you while you’re coming, sink my fangs right into your cock—taste your blood and your come at the same time, Jay. Would you let me?”

With no prayer of holding out after that mental image, Jared throws his head back and comes, driving his cock through Jensen’s fist until the last strings coat his stomach.

Above him, Jensen couldn’t look smugger if he tried. _Bastard_.

While Jared catches his breath, Jensen reclaims his injured wrist, sniffing out the remaining bloodstains as if he can’t bear to let one drop go to waste. First his wrist, Jensen’s tongue gliding over tendon and bone, lingering on the cut his fangs had made until it heals. Then his palm, where thick ribbons follow the path of his lifeline before diverging, the same way Jared’s life followed one course until Jensen came back to Richardson.

And finally his fingers, cleaning each knuckle and nail. Jared could come again from watching the way Jensen’s lips slide over his thumb, picking up the last of the blood. They’re full and wet—red from the taste he’s already had—but the sight makes Jared want to give him more. Give him everything, even if he’s not ready.

As if compelled, he pushes Jensen off his thighs and rolls onto his stomach, hips cocked into Jensen’s groin.

“Jay, wait”—the icy sensation of Jensen’s hand on his back makes him shiver—“what are you doing?”

“Blood. Sex. In that order,” Jared says, trying to keep his spine from locking up. “Just the way you wanted.”

Jared’s aware of how he must look—loose neck, spread thighs, shoulders arched wantonly—and when Jensen’s weight suddenly vanishes, he expects the vampire to return quickly, minus his pants, and overtake him. He expects to lose Jensen to base instinct, fucked to within an inch of his life and back again. And part of Jared wants that, just not the same part that urged him to give in to Jensen’s needs, unquestioningly.

“What—” Jared yelps when, instead of a crushing weight on his back, Jensen picks him up and drops him over his still-clothed lap. “Oh, is this how you want to do it?”

“No, Jared. I—” Jensen stops, shakes his head. “How’d this suddenly get so messed up?”

“Huh?” Despite being confused, Jared doesn’t pull away. Being held against Jensen’s body feels too good.

“I know you better than this,” Jensen says. “You don’t want me to fuck you.”

“I—” Jared stammers; that’s not exactly the truth either.

“We’re not ready for that.” Jensen strokes the side of Jared’s face, eyes sharp and intense. Jared nods. “Then _why_ , Jay?”

“It’s been two months,” Jared explains in a small voice, “and since you won’t feed from me, I thought I could give you this instead.”

“You don’t need to give me anything more than you already do.”

“Soon, it won’t be enough.”

“How the hell can you say that?” Jensen asks. “What we have—it’s beyond _words_ for me, Jared. You know that. Meaning it goes way beyond the sex we might or might not have.”

“So you don’t want…”

“Of course I want you that way.” Jensen allows a hint of humor to creep back into his voice, rubbing the tension away from Jared’s muscles with capable hands. “But I’ve waited a long time to have you, and I can wait even longer if I need to. You have no idea how patient I can be,” he adds with a wink.

Jared sags against Jensen’s chest, relieved. “I thought what we’ve been doing wasn’t enough for you, and that I’d need to let you fuck me soon, before I lost you.”

“First of all, you’re not going to lose me. It’s impossible, I’m a phenomenal tracker.” Jensen kisses his way across Jared’s cheekbones and back to his ear, nipping at the cartilage. “And second, who says you’ll be the one getting fucked?”

Suddenly there are two hearts in the room not beating.

“I can imagine plenty of ways for us to get inside one another,” Jensen says as Jared’s heart skips back into rhythm. “And I don’t care if we’re using a double-headed dildo and we’re both getting fucked. As long as sex and you are in the equation, I’m good.” Jensen leans back, cocking his head. “As a side note, though, in the future we definitely need to buy one of those and give it a try.”

“Jensen—”

“Not right now, but I’m just saying.” The vampire’s smirk descends into a serious line. “Look, Jared. I was celibate for two years before I came back—and whoever came up with the idea that celibacy clears your head probably had calluses on his hands from jacking off so much—”

Jared wrinkles his nose. “Gross.”

“—but what I’m trying to say—”

“Very circuitously,” Jared interrupts.

“—is that hand-jobs and blowjobs are _amazing_.”

The statement hangs there like a balloon until it pops under pressure, and Jared laughs, moving those last few inches to kiss Jensen. Rocking forward, he feels that Jensen’s half-hard beneath him and grinds his body down on that very promising bulge.

Jared slides off Jensen’s lap and onto the floor, shouldering Jensen’s thighs apart. He teases Jensen with his eyes as his fingers work the button and zipper, making his want obvious as if he could warm Jensen from the inside out. 

“I like where this is going,” Jensen mutters, his irises back to that golden green Jared loves.

“Thought you might,” Jared responds, dropping kisses across Jensen’s hipbones until he’s pushing his nose through soft pubic hair, picking out all the subtle scents of sex. And when he finally gets Jensen’s cock in his mouth, it’s perfect; he’ll never be able to get enough of Jensen’s smooth, flawless skin, and that goes double for the vampire’s dick. Like the rest of him, Jensen’s dick is cold to the touch, but the delicate flush to the skin makes his cock look like something sweet—something that might melt if you don’t suck it down fast enough, which Jared intends to do.

His lips glide up and down the length, taking his time even though Jensen’s grip behind his neck betrays his impatience. He considers dragging Jensen straight to the edge and pushing him off, but then he remembers how Jensen strung his orgasm out, dripping filth into Jared’s ear while he stroked. No way is he letting Jensen off without a little torture of his own.

Sucking until his lips are sealed, Jared lowers one hand, palming the cool, tender swell of Jensen’s balls. While his thumb rubs the base of Jensen’s cock, he sweeps over the sensitive skin with his fingers, feeling them get heavier in his hand. Jensen’s long thigh muscles are twitching in response, and as if Jared’s cranking a vise, Jensen’s legs close around his shoulders, anchoring Jared’s mouth to Jensen’s cock. The crown is forced into his throat, but Jared doesn’t panic, taking the fullness and swallowing before he can start to struggle. 

And he likes taking a little more than he’s comfortable with; he might not have been ready to have sex with Jensen, but he wants to push his own boundaries so that one night, he will. 

For such a composed vampire, Jensen’s a mess when he comes. Brows tight, mouth open and panting with his fangs exposed. Jared leans back to watch him shudder and jerk, still feeling the stretch in his throat when Jensen yanks him off his knees and kisses him voraciously. Tangled and breathless, they collapse into the leather, Jared waiting for his heart to stop racing.

When it does, he pulls Jensen closer and teases, “I’m glad we had this talk.”

“Mmm,” Jensen moans, catching Jared’s lower lip with his teeth. “Me, too. Does that mean you’re planning to stay the night?”

Jared huffs. “I dare you to try and kick me out.”

There are more rooms for Jared to see and a whole host of issues waiting come daylight, but Jared’s content to lie here for a while, where he has nothing to worry about except the man—vampire—in his arms. Jared resolves to think back to this moment—the simplicity of their bond as it is now, calm and sated—whenever something threatens to upend his life. He and Jensen are meant to be, and he’s going to make sure nothing gets in the way of that.

There’s no such thing as a normal life in Richardson, but Jared wants to achieve something as close to it as possible. He and Jensen aren’t out to change anything fundamental—they just want to be together, no more bumps in the road. It’ll take more than one vampire-turned-boyfriend and a college senior to change the way their town works, and Jared doesn’t want the responsibility.

He just wants Jensen.

As he drifts off, Jared thinks that’s not too much to ask.

~~~

Walking away from the mansion, Christian lets the darkness take him, confident that Jared won’t be getting into any more difficult situations tonight. He pulls out his cell phone and dials a familiar number, hoping the man’s sleeping habits haven’t changed in the last three years.

Christian hadn’t followed Jared here on Jensen’s orders; he was simply curious. Seeing Jared and Jensen gives him hope that old grudges can be overcome and set aside for true feelings, but it also makes him hesitate. Humans are meant to serve—they’re not meant to be allies, friends, or lovers. If that basic principle is shattered, there’s no telling the kind of upheaval Richardson might face.

Jensen and Jared’s relationship is changing everything, and Christian wonders if they’re even aware of it.

His call connects on the fourth ring, just in time to save Christian from a recorded voice telling him to leave a message. He hears the real voice instead, still rumbly from sleep, and smiles.

“Can I see you tonight?”

 

FIN.


End file.
